1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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